Taste Test Finals

“Time’s up!” The Lucky Bunny announced, slamming the gong.

Steam, spice, and panic billowed as the six maestro cooks scrambled forward, dishes in hand, sweat pouring. The crowd surged closer, adventurers partying with empty mugs, body tosses, and hungry eyes.

Mizuchi sat at the center of the judging podium, fan snapping and scales glittering, coils spun into a throne of her own making.

The first dish was Sargo’s masterpiece. His six powerful arms crafted a steak sizzling with herbs and golden glaze. He’d plated it himself, shirt wide open, sweat rolling down his bronze chest like a scene meant for some other bathhouse entirely.

He knelt before Mizuchi like a knight to be honored, lowering his head to be respectful, but never so low as to hide his competitive grin. “Lady Mizuchi. My sixfold pleasure cut: lobster tail, seared thrice, glazed in lime-honey fire.” He spun the plate once with a flick. “A single bite will flush your cool blood warmer than the best baths.” It settled, perfectly centered on the silk napkin she’d deigned to drape across the panel desk.

Rin, Sharlotte, and I took notes of the presentation: flawless.

Mizuchi lifted her silverware and carved a slice so thin it was transparent, and ate it.

Her whole posture changed. Her shoulders dropped, her throat worked once, twice, eyes fluttering half-shut, pupils gleaming gold in the courtyard flames. Her fan raised to her mouth as she let out a hiss of approval that rolled through her coils.

I bobbed in place. Perfect! Perfect! We did it! Sargo’s our champion! The Capital will bow before our cuisine!

“I shall grant your pitiful confection a score of…”

Sargo beamed at the panel’s reaction, all six arms pumping as proudly as a peacock. “Do you perceive it, Lady Mizuchi? The depth? My personal touch, centuries honing my flame, six hands tending the fire, and,”

Dozens of meters of Lamia body twisted, looped, and squeezed, her serpentine pride shattering from crown to tail-tip. “SPIT!”

WHAT?!

Mizuchi spat out violently. Rin and Sharlotte stopped themselves from fetching a bite. The remaining dish, untouched and tainted forever, slid off the plate. “Sweat,” she hissed. “Your secret ingredient was your sweat.”

Sargo, still kneeling, blinked. “A drop of honest labor! The salt of dedication! It elevates the–”

CRACK.

A large shock ran through his knee. “Wha…?” Though he was untouched, when he looked down, smoke wisps were rising from the stones that became diamonds under the weighty lash of Mizuchi’s tail.

“To consume the very essence of a trembling chef’s brow, it is truly the flavor of desperation!”

The other contestants flinched hard.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no! “W-We can spin this, right? Sauna fusion–”

A shadow had cast over Rin’s expression as she tallied the escalating costs of reparations to our influential guest.

“Next dish.” Mizuchi’s declaration slithered through our Spa, louder now, for every hopeful chef to tremble at.

One dish down. Five to go. No more sweat. Please, no more strange things in their dishes!

“Contestants! If you used any part of yourself for your set dishes, you may now declare it without repercussion. The whole point of this contest is to find a master chef suited for interspecies peace!”

“But, boss!” The crowds responded in mixed manners. “Orc sweat is ordinarily a delicacy! I would enjoy that any day!”

“I guess there’s a lot to different cultures…” Rin commented, eyeing Sargo’s remaining dishes.

“Dungeon cuisine isn’t a market I’m versed in…” Sharlotte remarked.

“Leave it to me. I’ve got nothing strange to declare, and my meals never disappoint!” The Beastfolk Wolf butcher stepped forward, tail bristling, and kabobs held high.

The Harpy girl trembled behind her herbal soup. The Demon-kin just grinned wider, fangs gleaming. The Golem rumbled softly, steam steady. The Slime Chef burbled.

We’re dooooomed!

Mizuchi leaned forward, lips parted, and she bit off a cube. “Adequate. Tell me.”

“Marinated in a secret broth, only the freshest cuts, personally tenderized in my mouth to test the fat–”

SPIT!

The Demon-kin Dragon-Man grinned broadly, dark sauce bubbling in a fancy gold bowl. He dribbled it over a roasted leg of something that still twitched.

Mizuchi sucked the bone clean in one regal swipe.

He leaned in, horns brushing close. “And if Lady Mizuchi desires extra heat, this one’s laced with a stimulant from my–”

SPIT!

The Golem opened his pot. Warm, hearty stew billowed out. Mizuchi sipped and nodded.

The Golem rumbled in atypical speech by vibrating the air with magical runes, often used by the impaired. “Fermented in my core cavity. Circulated daily.”

SPIT!

The Slime Chef burbled forward. His clear gelatin held up a soup bowl sparkling with onion broth, gold flakes swirling. “Flavor secret! Dissolved in yesterday’s base stock! No waste!”

SPIT! “How terribly uncouth.”

“Hey! That’s how broth stock works! You let it rest!” The crowd roared. “She’s too much of a rich girl!”

“My, my, myyy, how truly dreadfuuuul for you, commoners. To dare defile my noble maidenhood with such disgusting meals. Kazuki, shut them up.”

“Lady Mizuchi, please don’t call them commoners.” Rin bowed.

“Yeah, yeah! Listening to our clients comes first.”

“Oh, is it that you want? Become something worthier!” She turned an adventure from the crowd into a priceless gemstone with the Ability: Petrifying Gaze.

“Hey, turn him back!!” I protested immediately.

“What’s the fuss? Is it Gold you prefer? Here.” She slammed a letter onto the table. “A check to my vault. Now, keep their insults at bay.”

“Listen to reason, Master!”

“Rin or the money… I can’t decide between the two!”

“It should be a quick decision!” Rin pointed out.

“You run a hard bargain,” Mizuchi admitted, signing another check.

“It’s really a fast decision.”

“Noo! She’s his natural enemy!”

“Alright, Mizuchi. Continue standing in as our grand judge!”

“Naturally, I shall continue gracing this humble establishment with my refined palate! The last dish, Slime, was not terrible, but unsubtle. You mistake plainness for depth.” Her fan snapped shut, and she pointed at the Harpy. “Finally, you. Unveil your creation at once, that I may judge it with the dignity and decorum befitting my station!”

The Harpy waddled forward, feathers fluffed, holding a tiny bowl of golden broth like a prayer. “M-My mom’s recipe…” she whispered, trembling, feathers fluffed, ladle shaking as she offered her soft herbal stew.

Mizuchi sipped delicately as the warmth fluttered down her throat. She was hit with flashbacks.

Yes. This is our champion! I could feel my Gold treasury breathe!

“I… um… sang to it! Mama says singing while it boils makes it taste even better–”

SPIT!

“Hey, that wasn’t even offensive!!”

Mizuchi snapped her fan. “It tastes of home. But not my estate. Pathetic sentimentality.”

The Harpy nearly fainted, wings collapsing in sorrow.

Six dishes. Six betrayals. Six spits. Mizuchi dabbed her lips, fan trembling. “Pitiful. You seasoned food with sweat, with filth, with lullabies. Disgusting.”

Gasps rippled. The Dragon-Man snarled. The Harpy burst into tears. The Golem dimmed to ash-orange. Sargo flexed harder, cracking a plate. The Wolf Butcher’s tail lashed like a whip. The Slime sagged, his bowtie slipping into his stew.

The crowd erupted. “What’s your problem, snake princess?! They seasoned it with culture!” “They seasoned it right! It’s a house specialty because it’s their culture! They gave you their best culinary masterpieces!”

“O~hohoho! Do you peasants know nothing of subtlety? Nothing of refinement? It’s no good. When a customer purchases a jewel, the seller must appease their sentimentality, not that of their own.”

“You licked every dish clean before spitting it!” “Booooo! Worst judge ever!”

“Why…” she mumbled, cheeks pink, “why don’t any of you understand my refined palate?”

The crowd went wild. “Because you’re a brat!” “Snake princess can’t handle seasoning!”

“I-Insolent adventurers!!” Mizuchi stomped her tail like a sulking child. “I-I’m a terrifying heiress, not a brat!! Why aren’t you stopping them?”

“Sorry, Mizuchi.” I slid the paper money back. “I need a champion among these six. Spitting at all of them is too far.”

“Yeah, take it back, nobody invited you! Go cry in your jewel vault!”

“Silence!” Mizuchi snapped, tail swaying, her fan snapping shut with a crack. “Enough! Your Spa is getting too large to control. It’s filth.” She rose, tail sweeping aside plates like trash, and made to leave, her coils dragging heavier than before, scales quivering and shedding broken pride onto our Spa floor.

“Lady Mizuchi, wait!”

But it was too late. Mizuchi pressed her fan to her lips, eyes narrowed like daggers, and in one sweeping coil, she wound from the stage.

The spa’s halls blurred past me, Goblin waiters dodging my flying steam, adventurers spilling cups, a Dwarf tripping into a rice cart.

Ahead, Mizuchi slithered steadily, regal, fan poised as if nothing in the world had shaken her. But I could see it. Hearing me behind her, her body shimmered like rivers of molten emerald coming to a stop.

“Say, business person to business person.” She teared up a little. Was it the Harpy’s dish having a delayed effect? “Does everyone really have it out for me here?”

“Yes.”

“That was supposed to be a rhetorical question! This place is supposed to be interspeciesss…!!”

“That doesn’t mean you get to treat others horribly.”

“A judge is supposed to be honest! Say they were good. Say those were the best dishes your Spa could create. You can’t say it, right?!”

“I’m sooooo sorry, Mizuchi!!” I finally cracked. “We’ll have the best restaurant in the world for you!”

“Wh-Wh-Wh-What–?! U-Unhand me, you insolent rock!! Your izakaya’s taste is still perfect. You don’t need a restaurant expansion if you play the long game of recovering your funds. Fix it!”

“But it’s true, you licked every dish clean before you rejected it.”

“I should crush you for making me taste sweat! Do you understand?! Sweat! Hnnnh!” She puffed her cheeks, fan flapping. “I will return by next week to claim interest for my wasted appetite! If I’m displeased again, you’ll lose me as a customer forever, along with the loan I facilitated!”

“We’ll be ready.”

“Greedy little stone. You think you can tease me? You think you can run your filthy games behind your resort walls? I’ll chain your Core around my neck like a–”

“We’ll be ready! Really, ready.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you could be so serious… Is it because of that factor you mentioned to me? You have likely failed this labor given to you by the Demon Lord.”

“That thought’s been gnawing at me since the gong rang. But this... This matters more. They failed, yes, but not because they’re talentless. They broke the rules and poured themselves into their dishes. Don’t you see? That wasn’t arrogance, it was desperation that tainted everyone’s appetite. They wanted so badly to win your approval that they cooked their souls into their food!”

She scoffed, fan hiding half her face. “Pathetic excuses. Chefs should elevate ingredients and master different arts, not wallow in home recipes.”

“Can you say that for certain? In jewelry, there are only so many shapes you can cut from stone. What the chefs showed us today was equal to the efforts that pack a gemstone together over time. Food... even something as simple as a bento, is a treasure box, each dish a story. I’d love to eat the Harpy’s dish again, properly, in my Human form. Because even though I wouldn’t trade this Spa for anything, that doesn't mean I don't miss the taste of where I came from.” I admitted sentimentally. “Lady Mizuchi… Did you really not enjoy her dish? Or did you spit it out because you wanted to punish everyone equally?”

Her cheeks colored, the faintest blush creeping across regal scales. She turned her head fast. “…I-I’m not that nice.”

“Someone isn’t being honest.”

Her coils tightened, tail thumping the floor like a sulking child’s foot-stomp, though her fan still fluttered like a lady’s accessory. “So that is your grand excuse? Incompetence as proof of potential. How charming. And you dare present it to me as if I should be swayed?”

“I don’t care if you’re swayed. This proves one thing. They don’t need to be replaced. They need a master chef who can guide them, shape them, bring their interspecies cooking to the heights of true harmony, not freakshow fusion. Yes! All six of these uncut gems of contestants are the champions of our new restaurant! That must be what the Demon Lord wanted to see all along. Not to crown one prodigy, but to show the fire that burns in all of them! We contact Fettuccine Alfredo!”

“Hmph. You really are hopelessly earnest. And yet…” Her cheeks pinked, eyes darting away, “…it almost inspires me.”

By some miracle, I managed to spin this to our Spa’s advantage. Our Spa had managed to turn humiliation into its best advertisement yet. I hid all my panic. “You’re kind, Mizuchi.”

In truth... In truth!!

OF COURSE I’M HOPEFUL! THIS WAS A COMPLETE, MASSIVE FAILURE!

We burned all our food budget! Our chefs humiliated themselves! Mizuchi, this wasn’t a failure, it was a legendary catastrophe! If I don’t stay hopeful, if I don’t cling to some insane dream, then this entire expansion collapses and we all starve!!

I wept geysers so fluid that a Satyr slipped and went surfing across the tiles. Mizuchi flinched back, fanning herself in a panic as my steam soaked her silks. “S-Stop! Compose yourself, you ridiculous jewel! What are you, a child?!”

“You’re really so kind, Mizuchi!”

YES! WE NEED AN OUTSIDE SOURCE TO SAVE USSSSSS! A miracle chef! A savior with a spatula! If not, WE’RE REALLY DOOMED!

Mizuchi smacked her fan closed against my forehead, muttering in a strangled tone, “…Why do I feel like I’m babysitting rather than judging…” But the faintest smile tugged at her lips.

Fettuccine Alfredo!! The only one who can whip these disasters into a kitchen brigade worthy of legend! WE NEEEED YOUUUUU!